


Mirjahaal

by Skellington101



Category: The Mandalorian (LadyIrina's AU), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: All Kinds of Fluff, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Light Injuries, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellington101/pseuds/Skellington101
Summary: Drabbles of fluff and domestic bliss, of our little clan and their loving antics. Some will be set in different universes, like Soulmate AU and Modern AU, but rest assured, most of it is good, old-fashioned Star Wars.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret) & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 147





	1. On the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Family and Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758992) by [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina). 



> This is for all of you who are sad of the angst that is inflicted you by LadyIrina and others, to recuperate and recover in the peace of domestic fluff and sappy content. 
> 
> I will do my absolute best to keep most of the angst out of this, it may appear from time to time in the form of light angst, but otherwise you have the right to yell at me if it does happen.
> 
> Enjoy your fluff, you nerds!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin has lost something. And, no, not the child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come get y'all juice!! I finally wrote some fluff (it got stuck in my brain, what was I supposed to do?) and I may continue to do so...maybe. It's pretty short, the drabble length will vary (from less than 1k to over 5k, I have no restraint) and it will probably be random things for the most part.

Corin’s learned a lot since joining Din and the baby on the Razor Crest. Din had a way of organizing the ship to his liking, and Corin had adapted to it rather quickly, given that they constantly traveled in the beginning. Essentially living in the ship itself, was also a factor in this. 

It wasn’t a large ship, but it wasn’t small by any means. Although, compared to a Star Destroyer, a lot of ships looked smaller. But, he never lost a single thing on any of the Star Destroyers he traveled in. _So where the kriff were his pants?_

He’s in his underclothes and has checked the shelving units at least two or three times, and where they actually stored clothing more times than that. 

Nothing. Absolutely no glimpse of them.

They’ve been off-world a lot recently, so it was possible that he forgot them at an inn, but he wore them all the time. He was sure he had them just a couple cycles ago! It’s not like they could’ve gotten up and walked away.

Or they were stolen. Easy enough to believe, because they were made well and protected against most weather conditions or environments. They were _good pants_. _His pants!_

 _Those were his favorite pair._ He pouted.

Corin ran his hand through his hair and sighed again, shivering as the cooler air hit his bare legs. He’s usually more fond of the cold, but when it’s not snow and he doesn’t have adequate protection against it? It made him a little more crabby than he’d like to admit. _At least it’s not sand_. _Or heat_.

Pacing over to the ladder, he called out, "Din, have you seen my pants?" There was a clank and a large pause.

"Have you checked where they're supposed to be?" The deadpan response made him huff and he narrowed his eyes in the direction of the voice. The undercurrent of amusement was nearly unnoticeable, but by now, Corin had picked up on more and more of his social cues until he could read him easily by helmet tilt or voice alone. 

That didn’t make the teasing any better.

"Yes," He said pointedly, "I have. _Several_ times." 

"Hmmm. Maybe you should check again." Corin growled exasperatedly and climbed up the rungs. 

"This isn't fun, you know, you have the temperature regulator set far lower than it needs to be and I am _half-naked_ , so I kinda need my pants—" 

Those said pants, which were bundled up in one of Din's hands, and being held out in a teasing fashion.

"Oh, these," Din drawled out, "I thought you meant the other pair." He glanced over, his posture relaxed and his helmet tilted in a sly gesture. 

Corin could feel Din's gaze sweep over him, shamelessly lingering on his legs before moving back up. He pouted and snatched the pants out of his hands and started slipping them on. 

"They were up here the whole time? And you didn't say anything?" Corin asked exasperatedly. 

Din tilted his helmet forward. "To be fair, I _did_ only find them when you asked." He chuckled softly when Corin huffed and tied the strings to his pants together. 

"Why were they in here in the first place, I could have sworn I put them downstairs the other day..." He murmured quietly to himself. Or, at least, he thought so, until Din responded back.

"I think _someone_ left them here the last time we were up to something in the cockpit." The suggestive note implied all that he needed, and it didn't take much understanding to figure out when that was.

Corin paused while standing up straight, then stuttered out, "Oh, kriff, I knew I forgot something." His cheeks heated up and his mind kept flicking back to the aforementioned night, one that he'd definitely remember for the rest of his life. _Finding tanned and scarred broad shoulders underneath the shining beskar, running his hands over a toned chest and muscled legs…_

Din quipped back, "You had a very single-minded focus that day. I wouldn't blame you for that." 

He groaned distressingly and let out a scandalized, "Din!" It took a moment or two to tug his mind away from _that_ night and focused his glare on the man in front of him.

Din laughed quietly and turned back to the pilot's controls. Corin let him be, if only to check up on other things while Din focused back on the course. 

Eventually, Corin sidled up to the seat and peered over, letting out a pleased hum. The planet was still a couple hours away. The child was asleep in the cargo area, safely tucked in. Everything is packed and ready for the next job they take on. Just them.

He nudged his way into Din's lap, watching him give up the controls in quiet acceptance and flip on autopilot before letting his warm arms curl around Corin's waist. He ran his hands up Corin's torso once to pull him closer before settling them around his hips. 

"Well, it's too bad we have a job to finish, isn't it?" He lounged comfortably in Din's lap and chuckled as the helmet slumped down to rest on Corin's forehead, the cool beskar sitting gently on his skin.

"It really is." Din murmured quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this wasn't out of character! (let's be honest, it probably was)


	2. Corin is yoked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din is injured. Corin just wants to help his husband. Luckily, there is a solution to both of these problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyaaaa! To combat the onslaught of everyone getting angsted out, I present this piece of work! It took me wayyyy longer than it should've but now it's here!

Knowing that his husband is strong enough to pick him up is one thing. Him _actually doing it_ is something else entirely.

A local village on a forested planet had called for their help, a plea to the legendary Mandalorian in his shiny, bright beskar to save them from impending doom. Their doom, which consisted of a group of slavers planning to pick up new stock in the form of the tiny village. 

Din just wanted to refuel and earn a bit of credits on the way. The job was very quickly turning into something else entirely. 

“On your left!” Din called out in warning. He ducked behind a tree as shots shredded up the trunk. Swearing softly under his breath, he scanned the clearing they were in, spotting six, no, seven slavers through the thick foliage.

Corin had been on edge for their entire walk, had quietly murmured to him about ‘bad luck in the air’ and they both felt the eyes following them down the path. 

Corin didn’t call back, but the next blast shot carved a smoking hole through the slaver’s chest, throwing the body back like a ragdoll from where he was positioned on their flank. The next three shots were taken in quick succession, killing the one pinning him down and pushing the others back. 

Ambushed by slavers. Not for the first time for Din, but by Ghalrudds, who were supposed to be several systems away in their colonies.

Yeah, not the best day he ever had. 

Din swung out from behind the cover on the other side, aiming carefully and quickly fired. A guttural cry rang through the clearing, one body tumbling down. Four more.

A shot deflected off one shoulder pauldron, he turned and aimed. Three.

From the corner of his visor, he glimpsed Corin diving into the foliage and tumbling out with his vibroblade stuck in another one’s throat, yanking it out swiftly. Two. 

A body collided with his, hands seizing his arms and pulling his blaster away from its intended target. He grunted as a fist impacted his padded stomach and gruff, indecipherable words were snarled into his ear. 

He heard Corin shout something from across the way and several more blaster shots. Worry swirled in his chest, but he couldn’t slip, not now. Din wrested his arm away and turned it towards the Ghalrudd’s gut, but it wrenched away and slammed a fist into his helmet just as he fired. A bright burst of pain came from the visor slamming into his face and his vision blurred nauseatingly.

The shot went wide and the short-range blaster tumbled out of his hand from the force of the hit. _Rookie mistake,_ he swore angrily to himself. 

The slaver snarled and slammed him backwards. His foot caught on an exposed root and he couldn’t stop a pained yell from escaping him as they fell down onto the floor. 

The slaver bared its crooked, yellow teeth above him, about to pounce. There was more shouting in the background, but he couldn’t focus on the words, only on the slaver on top of him.

He barely had time to pull up his wrist, about to use the flamethrower, when a shot slammed into the side of it’s head and splattered brownish organic matter everywhere. The body flopped down onto him and he wheezed, the weight of the Ghalrudd’s heavy form crushing his chest.

A hand wrenched the corpse off of him and Corin anxiously hovered over him, a frown on his lips and his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Din’s view was partially distorted by the sludge coating over half of his visor, but the concern radiating from Corin was clear as day. 

His head throbbed angrily. The other man got down on his knees while Din was struggling to regain his breath, cupping a hand on Din’s helmet and clasping his arm with the other. 

“Din?” He said worriedly, “Can you respond? Are you hurt anywhere?” 

He took stock of his injuries. His head pulsed sharply and looking out the visor was a little more disorienting than he would admit, and his stomach ached from the powerful hit the Ghalrudd had dealt him. More worryingly was his ankle, which twinged warningly if he attempted to bend it properly. But, he shook his head. “It can wait,” he rasped out.

He could deal with a twisted ankle at the ship, they had to get back soon. The child was being watched by a couple of locals, but he trusted that as much as he trusted the tip that led them here.

His words didn’t seem to reassure Corin, who ran his hands over Din’s arms and sides, checking for himself. Din relented, managing to stand without putting any weight on his left leg.

“N--Nothing’s mangled, or shot. Just out of breath. I can’t see very well.” He motioned to his helmet and he would’ve used his glove to wipe it off, if it weren’t covered in the same sludge.

Corin nodded and grabbed a rag from his belt, gently tilting Din’s helmet upwards and wiping off the mess carefully. It still took his breath away, how caring and kind Corin could be, and his touch still affected Din as much as the first time. Warmth suffused his chest and he leaned further into the comforting touch of his _riduur_. 

Once the visor was wiped clean, Corin inspected it once more before he put the rag back in his belt. “Back to the ship?” he asked. 

Din nodded. Corin nodded back, satisfied with the answer and turned to get back to the path. Taking a deep breath, he took a step.

White, hot pain shot up his leg and he swore loudly, stumbling against a tree trunk to keep himself up. 

Alarm flashed over Corin’s face and he hastily stepped forward, steadying Din with a hand on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around Din’s waist to hold him up so he was able to regain his balance on one leg.

“Kriff,” He swore in surprise. ”Here, come over here.” He helped Din limp over to a flattish boulder peeking out of the ground and Din sat, nearly folding over and falling if Corin hadn’t slipped a hand behind his back and held him up.

He knew that if Corin could use both of his arms without Din falling over, he’d be putting them on his hips judgmentally. “So, Din, any injuries?” He asked exasperatedly. 

He looked a bit left of Corin’s eyes, focused on a bit of his hair that poked out of his hairstyle, and answered quietly, “My ankle—it got caught up in a root when I went down. I took a hard hit to the head, too.”

The worry sharpened in Corin’s eyes and he moved forward to crouch down at the base of the stump. It was clear he wanted to check the head wound first, but they both knew it’d have to wait for later. He propped up Din’s leg instead, and began inspecting it carefully. He prodded carefully at one side of his foot, and Din involuntarily jerked back from the jolt of pain that ran through his leg, hissing quietly.

“Din,“ Corin spoke up in a strangled voice, looking up at him incredulously, “This might be sprained or broken, you shouldn’t have even taken a single step.”

“I was hoping to deal with it on the ship,“ He admitted sheepishly. He was regretting that now, the pain radiating from his heel and shooting up his leg teaching a swift lesson. 

Corin didn’t push any further, leaving his boot on for support but taking the plating off and pushing himself up to stand beside him. 

“Usually, I’d be able to carry you on my back.” Corin grimaced at that, and it set off alarms ringing in Din’s head. “But they grazed me on the back. It doesn’t feel terrible, so I should be fine until we get back.” _There it is._

But Din learned, from many, many, _many_ mishaps and injuries, that anything Corin said was ‘not bad’ was worse than what most people thought was ‘okay.’ He waved a hand forward. “Let me see.” 

“Din—” He gave Corin a very pointed look, and the other man sighed and relented, turning around and moving the blaster rifle off his shoulder. Din pulled him in closer until he was standing against the stump, so he could inspect the damage further.

The blaster had burned through the protective cloth and the resulting injury was not pleasant. Blistered red skin bordered the edges of the wound while the area in the middle was a burnt brown. It wasn’t bleeding, but any pressure on it would break the skin or pop a blister, and Din didn’t want to risk that until he could properly clean it back at the ship. _He needs a backplate soon._

“ _Cyar’ika_ ,” He gently chided the man in front of him, “You can’t carry me with this wound.” He put a small, protective patch he pulled from his pouch over the wound and sealed the edges, mindful of pressing too hard.

“And you can’t walk on that foot of yours, either.”

“You could head back to the ship first. I’ll wait here—”

“Not on my back, then.” Corin turned to face him promptly.

 _Wait, what?_ “What?” He voiced aloud, narrowing his eyes. 

“I won’t carry you on my back, then.” Corin grinned, and Din simultaneously felt dread and exasperation from his next words. “I’ll carry you in my arms.”

Dozens of thoughts ran through Din’s mind, and he could barely process the words. “Not all the way back to the village,” he blurted out, wincing internally at the dubious look thrown his way.

But Corin didn’t back down. “No, not all the way back to the village, just our ship on the outer edge. We won’t have to go through the village, and trying to support you while stepping over all these roots would be a nightmare since you would only be on one leg. It’s barely a quarter of a klik, it’ll be fast.”

Din wanted to argue, say that the trip was too much strain on his shoulder, or that he wouldn’t make it back to the ship. 

Cool blue eyes gazed back at him, anxiety and concern whirling behind a thin mask of confidence. If he weren’t probably concussed, he would most likely have spotted several other tells if the man’s eyes weren’t so honest. 

His injuries ached. “Okay.” 

Corin’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” Din’s bleary mind cried out internally. 

The wavering uncertainty in his voice was too much for Din to let go untended, and it sent a pang through his chest. Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed both of Corin’s arms, dragging him into the last few inches of space between them. 

“I trust you.” He murmured quietly, leaning his helmet on his shoulder with a metallic _tink_ from hitting the beskar chestplate.

He heard the small breathless gasp in his ear and felt Corin’s arms coming up to settle on his shoulders. “I know,” Corin whispered reverently. 

They took another moment to themselves in the calm silence of the clearing, smoking bodies aside, and got ready to go.

“Ready?” Corin asked mischievously. Din huffed, and nodded minutely. 

With skillful ease, Corin leaned down and hooked an arm around Din’s legs, being discerningly more careful with his hold, and reached up to wrap an arm around his back. With one move, the world shifted and Din found himself cradled in the other man’s sturdy grip. 

_Oh, kriff him_. Dozens of thoughts ran through his head, none of them particularly appropriate or subtle. 

“There we go,“ Corin said breathlessly, eyes gleaming with not-so-subtle satisfaction and his lip curving up into a smirk. “Everything good?”

“I—” he managed, “Yes.” He swore that the burning red of his face was showing up through the visor with how Corin glanced down at him, amusement shining clear and freely on his face.

“Onward we go, _riduur_ ,” Corin chirped cheerfully, a grin beaming on his face. Somehow, Din was able to keep the embarrassing noise that wanted to slip from his lips from escaping.

He felt hyper aware of each time Corin readjusted his grip underneath Din's back and under his legs, fingers tucked intimately into the unprotected part of his side. Their armor tapped together and made soft metallic clicks on their walk, but nothing else popped out at them in their return.

The tension seeped out of Din as he settled, resting his head lightly Corin was being careful enough not to jostle too much or move too fast, and Din had to make a conscious effort not to lull into a light doze. The uncomfortable feeling of blood sticking in his helmet and a heavy throb in his injured ankle helped in that regard.

Din was jarred from his haze when Corin set him down lightly and lowered the ramp on the side of the ship. It shook the ground slightly, and a gust of air blew back twigs and leaves from the landing. Suspicious creaking echoed from the inner mechanisms, but Din shoved the future task of fixing up his ship to the back of his mind and tried to straighten out his leg again, with little success. 

Corin paced over and crouched down, swiftly picking Din up again and only faltering slightly but his grip remained steady and safe as ever. A gust of wind swayed the trees around them and Corin frowned up at the dark, clouded sky. “Bad luck all the time, it seems,” he grumbled, a small pout on his face. 

He made his way up the ramp and nudged a couple crates aside so he could lower Din down with his leg propped up. Din sighed, sagging against the cool, metal boxes while Corin shuffled through the containers quickly.

“Okay,” the other man spoke up, suddenly, a knowing glint in his eye, ”Do you want me to get _ad’ika_ first, or wrap up your injuries first?”

Din straightened up and shook his head, immediately regretting the action as the world spun and tilted dangerously. He tipped back to lean against the wall for support and took a few deep breaths until the brewing nausea went down.

“ _Ad’ika_. I can wait a bit.” Corin huffed at that, but didn’t argue with Din, which was as good as saying he also didn’t trust the locals here, not if there were more slavers on the prowl. He leaned down to tap his forehead against Din’s, holding it there for a moment or two, and then stood back up. 

“Be right back.” He smiled reassuringly and made his way down the ramp, out to the path leading towards the village. Din watched his back until the foliage hid him completely. _K'oyacyi._

Minutes passed and Din busied himself with taking off his boot and sock, cursing under his breath at the purplish, swollen skin surrounding his ankle. He prodded a bit and tested it again, letting out a sigh of relief. _Definitely a sprain, but not a break_. He was lucky, this time. 

The creeping silence was only broken by a soft patter of rainfall beginning, large drops falling onto hollow metal plating in a way that created soothing white noise. Rainwater ran down the ramp and dotted on the edges, and the quiet atmosphere would have lulled him into a doze if the everpresent absence of his _aliit_ wasn’t burrowing into his mind and making him finger the comm on his gauntlet. 

Soft footsteps made their way up the ramp, his helmet tilted up towards the hatch as Corin stepped on board, the child burbling animatedly in his arms. Din had to purse his lips to muffle the laughter that wanted to spill from him.

Corin’s clothing was soaked nearly all the way through, his armor speckled and dripping with water, and his hair was plastered down the sides of his face. His missing cloak that would’ve prevented the waterlogged appearance was wrapped snugly around the child, pastel green ears sticking out of the hood of the brown cloak and little, clawed hands grabbing handfuls of it to keep its face from being covered up completely. Its eyes widened and shone happily as the little hands reached out towards him. 

New warmth burst in his chest and he felt his shoulders relax from their constant state of hypervigilance. His _aliit_ was back. It was okay now. 

Corin stepped forward and handed the child over, eyes glimmering with relief. It squeaked happily, a hand resting on the visor and its body nuzzling closer to him. “Hello there,” he murmured quietly. The child chirped back and giggled, ears perking up joyfully. He used part of the cloak to wipe away the water speckling its cheeks.

The ramp door lifted and shut, water running into the ship, but Corin paid it no heed and began unhooking his armor pieces, setting them aside one by one until it was only the clothing underneath. And then, he began changing that, too. 

Din admired the near see-through undershirt and, probably feeling his gaze, Corin rolled his eyes at him and teasingly took his time drying off his damp skin while Din’s gaze roamed further. He hummed quietly to himself, absent-mindedly adding another task to his to-do list. _Definitely later._

Slipping on a drier set of clothing, Corin bunched up the wet pile and set it aside, finally coming to settle next to them.

“The village?” Din questioned as Corin took the child back and Din began his own process of removing armor pieces. 

Corin’s nose wrinkled endearingly. “They asked a couple questions. I didn’t stay for long, but they seemed to be more glad for it. I doubt I looked the best.” Din had a few words to say about that, but considering it was more because of the blaster-singed and grimy clothing, he let it slide.

“Job's done, so we don't need to be here much longer," Din answered. Corin hummed in response, bouncing the baby gently in his arms and then setting it down so it could play with a plush toy in its hands. 

"We still need to restock before we leave. I'll go to that one shopkeeper, she liked us well enough." With that, he dragged the medkit over and settled between Din’s legs, pulling out bandages and bacta cream. He wrapped Din’s ankle with practiced ease and a steady grip, tight enough so that any mobility was restricted and his ankle could properly rest.

Mindful of the cut on his head, Din lifted off his helmet and took a deep breath, his surroundings loud and harsh on his protected ears and eyes. He winced at the change in color and hissed into the open air, adjusting smoothly enough so that way the ship’s loud mechanical hum settled dimly into the background noise. 

He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes until the warm touch of a calloused hand on his face brought him out of his daze. A thumb brushed over his bruised cheekbone and fluttered over his temple, where the injury was throbbing painfully.

He met Corin’s eyes, the crystal blue still brimming with wonder and tenderness as if it’s the first time without his helmet, and spoke up quietly, “I’m not sure how good I’ll look if I keep messing up my face every other job.”

The other man huffed out a small laugh, a tired sparkle lighting up his face. “ _G--Gar mesh’la bal ner riduur. Gar ner karta bal mhi an--aliit_ ,” he stuttered out.

A bright ball of delight and adoration burst deep in his heart and spread through his body. He swallowed thickly and didn’t even try to keep the smile off of his face. _This was his riduur, his lovely, wonderful husband who was so sweet and kind and skilled. He was clan, and Din could hardly believe his life had brought him such joy in the form of their child and his partner._

They needed no words but the gentle touches they exchanged and refused to let go of, Din’s hand resting on Corin’s hip and hardly any space between them while he cleaned off the cut on his head and sealed it with a small patch.

Dipping down, he brushed his lips against Din’s forehead and smiled softly at him. “All done,” he breathed out.

 _Not quite._ “Your back, _cyar’ika_ , “ he reminded the other man, and letting out a soft sigh in exasperation at Corin’s moment of realization and subsequent sheepishness at the forgotten injury. 

Corin turned around and leaned back, pulling up the shirt enough to expose the patch laying over defined back muscles and battle-worn skin. The sudden urge to run his hands over the tanned, scarred back nearly overtook him, but he merely reached over to the medical patch. _Later_. 

He peeled off the bandage and cleaned out the wound, making sure to check Corin’s breathing and that it remained steady and even while he worked. The child climbed into the man’s lap and seemed to successfully distract him further from the pain. _Too smart for us, huh, ad’ika?_

Once Din was done, Corin slumped against his uninjured leg, letting his head rest against Din's thigh and letting out a deep sigh. The child cooed and curled up in his lap, no doubt also tired from its time in the village.

The rain continued to pour and, nestled close to his _cyare’se_ , he relaxed and dropped into a light doze.

For the moment, they rested together, undisturbed by the chaos of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corin is one strong boi, and I know that Din is probably heavier with the beskar on, but come on! Corin works out whenever possible. He can definitely pick Din up when he's not severely injured for once. They can both pick each other up like the power couple they are.


End file.
